


Why even Leave England?

by time_to_lime



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Colonies, Diary/Journal, Epistolary, Gen, History, Journalism, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:50:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2390642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/time_to_lime/pseuds/time_to_lime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benny Lafitte is an english journalist recording his travels to colonial America in the 1700's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why even Leave England?

**Why Even Leave England?**

**Private Journal of Benny Lafitte**

February 16th, 1729

          I have officially set out to the colonies! It’s been a month at sea and I haven’t died yet, so I guess I am supposed to make it! It’s strange, I feel so at ease at sea, like I’m meant to forever sail over the deep waters. Perhaps with the pirates, but no, I need to get to the colonies. People are expecting me. My friends the Milligans, lovely people, made a humble farm in the northern colonies about ten years ago. They would very much like to see me, and not have me running off with pirates. They say they met another nice family, the Miltons, who run the rather large town of Lawrence. The Miltons are wealthy folks, so they are supporting the Milligans financially. They also volunteered to tour me around their favorite places in the colonies for my journal. And now, a spot in the highest riggings has opened up, and I’m going for it. So I bid you adieu, and I shall write again when I reached shore.

\- Benny

 

April 3rd, 1729

          At last I am safe and sound at the farm! After another two weeks of rigorous sailing, a good wind brought us to shore early! And then came the ride from the very east coast to Lawrence which was slow and grueling, but I made it! The Milligans were overjoyed to see me and I them. They were looking well. Mrs. Kate Milligan, newly widowed, was looking fit and I believe farm life was suiting her well. Little Adam Milligan (who is now twenty-two and not so little anymore) is just as sweet as he’s ever been. They don’t have time to really entertain me, not that I need them to, because farm life is so taxing. So is cooking. If Kate isn’t collecting eggs, feeding animals, milking cows, or any other of the multitude of daily tasks, she’s slaving away over the large iron pot hung in the fireplace. Most meals are simple, stews and broths with some sort of corn product, and they are home-grown and delicious! As they should be, for the amount of effort it takes to make them! I was surprised to learn that the the Milligans didn’t believe in keeping slaves, even though they needed all the help they could get. Unlike most folks they just didn’t think it was right to make poor captured individuals work for you endlessly. It was nice actually.Tomorrow I visit the townhouse of the Miltons. I’m mildly nervous to meet Mr. Chuck Milton and his supposedly beautiful daughter, Miss Anna Milton. I need to sleep before my big day, so I will write again as soon as I can.

-Benny

 

April 4th, 1729

 

          Today was interesting. I went to the Miltons’ and was astounded by two things. one, their house was as beautiful as they were nice (very). Two, the city was rank. There was garbage and animals in the streets, open sewers, and rotting things that I don’t care to know the origin of. The houses were tallish and crowded. If they had any space between them, they were squat and ugly. The Miltons’ house however, was removed from the city far enough that it was large and elegant, but still easily accessible from the town. Mr. Chuck Milton is a good man with a kind face. He is a bit young for his stature, but he has kind and wise blue eyes, a short head of thick brown hair, a slightly pointed moustache, and a tendency to forget to shave. Miss Anna Milton was indeed beautiful, with her fiery red hair and hard brown eyes that were somehow kind at the same time. There was no mention of a mother, so I assume she had passed, but none the less they seemed to be a very tight-knit pair. “Family is as important to us as making sure the whole town doesn’t go to ruin.” they told me “We could never turn down family in need.” We discussed where we would be touring and decided that to begin with I would visit a small shop that Chuck loves, a printing shop that he uses to publish all of his small novels that he produces when he has the time. It was called “Garth’s Print Shop” and it was a hit in Lawrence, and even a few bordering villages. It was run by an odd little man named Garth Fitzgerald IV. He was scrawny and funny, but you couldn’t help but take to him instantly. He had a love for knowledge, and helping people. He loved kids and always wanted some of his own, and kids loved him back. He was very nice to me as he was to everyone. The unhappy part of this day was when we had returned to the Milton household.

          We decided that I would next travel to the small border town of Black Rock up even farther north. Their favorite little church was up in Black Rock, a tiny establishment called the “Local Novak Village Church” and the owner’s brother, Castiel Novak, was a lifelong friend of Miss Anna’s. This next escapade must have been decided beforehand without my knowledge, because when we arrived back home Castiel was already there. After an undignified shriek of “CAS!” from Miss Anna and a lengthy embrace that seemed like the reunion of long lost siblings, he explained to me that he was there to escort me and Miss Anna to Black Rock because Chuck was too busy keeping Lawrence together, making sure everything was following the script smoothly. I was wary of the man. I didn’t enjoy his company, he took everything so literally and had little sense of humor. It wasn’t long till I figured that out. I was trying to get to know him a little, as a courtesy to Miss Anna. I looked at her after he’d said an odd remark and casually laughed “So this is the crazy aunt you want to take on the road?” and she’d laughed but he’d just looked puzzled and said to me in a matter-of-fact tone “I have no possible relation to your sibling offspring.” The guy was just strange and quiet and removed. This is going to be a long trip with these two. I’ll write from Black Rock, as I’ll be staying there a while.

-Benny

 

April 15th, 1729

 

          We arrived after a short seven day journey. It was late on a Saturday and we went to bed right quick, we needed to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for church in the morning. The Local Novak Village Church was adorable. It was a miniscule arrangement of wooden pews and a small pedestal for the person doing the speaking, but it seemed as if the entire town had packed into the little building. Castiel’s older brother, Michael, did the most speaking, as he was the owner of the church. It was a nice experience, but it started so early in the morning it seemed a pain to get there all the time. It was also dreadfully boring to me, like most churches I’ve been to, and I don’t know why.

          My favorite attraction of the town was the little bar and diner called the Roadhouse. It was run by the widow Ellen and her unmarried daughter Joanna, an unusual combination for this day and age. They had help of course, from the church, but mostly from some local boys. Ashton, or Ash as everyone calls him, is the main assistant and live-in household helper. The sheriff, Samuel, who we’d been introduced to by Castiel on the way out of church, liked to come by when he wasn’t working. He’d automatically been wary of me and I haven’t the slightest idea why. His older brother Dean liked to help out his share as well, but I believe it’s because he fancies Joanna. I liked to spend time in the homey building, and did so too. Whenever Castiel and Miss Anna weren’t dragging me along to social gatherings and town meetings that is, or when Sam wasn’t there. He didn’t exactly scare me, but his towering height, broad muscular build, and obvious dislike for me was a tad intimidating.

          It was all going mighty well until the next Saturday. I was having a wondrous time at the Roadhouse, like I did almost every night, talking and laughing with Joanna and Ellen and Ash, but most of all with Dean. He and I just hit it off real nicely. We were having fun, but got to be drinking more that we probably should have, with church being the next day and everything. And that’s exactly what did happen. I was woken up by Miss Anna in the morning to be on our way, and I had a massive headache due to the celebrating last night with Dean and the others. I told her I’d be right behind them, but I needed to shave this morning. I’d meant to do so too, but my eyelids won out and before I knew it I was being roughly shaken awake by someone’s massive hands. I heard a gruff voice tell me that I was under arrest for failing to attend church. It was the sheriff. It was Sam. I looked and saw a wolfish grin that told me that he’d been waiting for me to slip up so he could have an excuse to lock me up in the shabby jail on the outskirts of town. As I was hauled away I knew I was going to be put away for a day or so before I got my trial, and then I didn’t know what was going to happen.

          The sign on the jail was worn and broken but it read “Purgatory Town Jailhouse” clearly enough.

          I was thrown into a holding cell as big as a closet to await my trial. I was to be put in an iron wagon to be hauled to the courthouse three days later. I was standing in front of the judge in the “Royal Garrison Courthouse”  with my dirty clothing and unshaven face, thoroughly embarrassed. I had the great sense to call on my rights. I wanted to have them read to me to make sure there weren’t any loopholes I could use to get out of this mess. There wasn’t. The judge had given two options. Take a fortnight of jail time back in Purgatory then return to England, or someone could pay my bail and I’d return to England anyway. I knew I was going to go back to jail, the last thing I wanted to do. But Dean stepped up and offered to pay my bail and the meeting was adjourned.

-Benny

  
  


May 10th, 1729

          Today is my last day in the colonies. After my trial I was allowed a week to return to Lawrence and say goodbyes. I bid farewell to the Milligans and the Miltons and then was on my way. I set out to the port I’d come from, and am now sitting at. I see my ship coming in and I can conclude that this entry will bring my journal to an end. If you’ve taken the time to read this, I beg you to take my advice to heart: don’t leave England.

 

Yours,

 **Benny Lafitte**  

 

 


End file.
